


Dreaming Other Worlds

by pyromanicsghost (countyourluckystars)



Series: Magician Jaskier AU [1]
Category: The Magicians (TV), The Magicians - Lev Grossman, The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Concerned Geralt, Earth Magician Jaskier, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-21
Updated: 2020-03-21
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:28:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23240992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/countyourluckystars/pseuds/pyromanicsghost
Summary: When Jaskier doesn't wake up, a worried Geralt has to confront his feelings for the bard.Jaskier is summoned by Ember, along with his fellow former kings of Fillory, to a dream world where they are given a mission.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Quentin Coldwater/Eliot Waugh
Series: Magician Jaskier AU [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1671019
Comments: 6
Kudos: 89





	Dreaming Other Worlds

**Author's Note:**

> Jaskier, as Julian Pankrantz, was a Brakebills Physical Kid as part of the gang. The Continent is another world in one of the Neitherland pools. Jaskier likes the musical attention, and a certain man he met there.
> 
> This headcanon has been in my head for a long while, and then in the most recent episode Ember's dreamscape that pulled some folks in was the perfect way for me to get rolling. For the Magicians I'm focusing on big plot points from the books. I pulled this specific situation from the show and frankly, excluding some notable differences, the two get all mixed up in my brain.

Where was he? 

Jaskier most definitely remembered going to sleep in an inn to the scent of stale beer and a feeling of warmth radiating off Geralt’s body on the other side of the bed. If it were up to Jaskier, he would have been enveloped in the Witcher’s strong arms but c’est la vie.

This was not the inn. This was a stone corridor, cold and smelling of...tiny cakes. Oh fuck. This was Whitespire. What the magical fuck was happening now and how in the universe had he ended up here, literal worlds away.

“Well, cocks.”

Silver linings, he supposed. “Margo! Darling! May I ask, what the hell?”

“I second that,” drawled Eliot from down the hallway. “You alright, babe?”

Jaskier looked around the room and counted six of his friends in the corridor. Eliot was dusting off Q’s shirt as Q peered about, eyes wide like a child in an aquarium. Margo was chucking off her stilettos, one with a broken heel, cursing like a sailor under her breath. Alice was standing near a doorway, the one farther from Jaskier, crossing and uncrossing her arms under her always lovely bosom. Finally, Josh and Fen were chilling next to her, seemingly unfazed by the situation. Jaskier assumed they were already in Whitespire, so perhaps they simply were unfazed.

“Ember’s balls! I didn’t know the bathroom was a portal too!” said Fen.

“It wasn’t last time.” said Josh, dumping the powdered green contents of a small glass container on the ground and stepping away sheepishly to poke and prod at the wall nearest him.

“Does anyone know where we are or why?” Jaskier asked, looking hopefully at Alice who just raised a perfect brow and shook her head.

Margo emphatically cleared her throat and announced, “I think I've been here before. One way to find out. Let’s roll, bitches.” as she strutted barefoot through the far door, motioning for the others to follow. 

And, of course, they did.

Geralt was heading back to the inn after receiving a contract from merchant at the town market who had lost half his wares, not to mention his brother and two horses, on the journey there. The sun was passing midday and he figured Jaskier would be awake by now, despite coming to bed well after Geralt retired and moving about most of the night.

The witcher found relief in the fact that Jaskier returned to their shared room instead of finding a lover, which was never difficult for the bard for obvious reasons. In fact, as far as Geralt could tell, Jaskier returned to him quite quickly after his performance ended.

To the room, the witcher amended. Not to himself. Jaskier wasn’t his, and then he tossed and turned all night like he always did when they shared a bed. He sometimes wished he could just hold the slimmer man still until he fell asleep pillowed against Geralt’s chest. 

He entered their room to find Jaskier sprawled out across the lumpy mattress. Dead asleep and unresponsive to the light coming in the window.

“Bard!” Geralt couldn’t understand how the man slept so much considering he did so little physical labor. Then again, perhaps all the walking he did next to Roach was a lot for the human. He considered letting Jaskier ride now and again as he shook him awake.

And shook him, and shook him. Except he wasn’t waking up. 

Fuck.

Margo explained while they walked that they were in a preset dreamscape courtesy of Ember. Last time she was there alone, as the only sitting ruler of Fillory at that time. 

“So Umber set this up as, like, a warning? Five minutes to midnight during the cold war kind of warning?” Q was rambling, his only instinct under stress, “That’s incredible, I mean how does the power for this kind of thing last since he's gone and I mean all of us were on Earth, is there some kind of-”

“Not all of us.” Jaskier amended.

“That’s true. Have you been exploring the Neitherlands, Julian?” Alice tilted her head towards him.

“Not anymore, no. I kind of, well, just keep returning to that one world I came across a bit ago.”

“With the white haired wolf man?” Eliot raised his eyebrows suggestively, earning a halfhearted whack to his arm from Q and a short cackle from Margo.

“They appreciate my music much better there than the house shows at Brakebills ever did.”

“They don’t have radio, let alone streaming. Of course they like it.” 

Before Jaskier could think of a witty retort to Margo’s insult, or any retort really, they entered a what appeared to be a very bleak throne room and on the dais was a the god of the hour. 

“Ah! Children of Earth! And.. you. Welcome my little fools!” 

Ember sat on one of two stone thrones, with his back against one arm and his satyr legs crossed over the other.

“Fillory is in mortal danger, and as the sitting King is causing it, well, I have had to reach out to you all. The living former kings of my world. Welcome, welcome. Brandy?”

Geralt was panicking. He could hear Jaskier’s heartbeat, he could see his chest rise and fall with each breath. But he wouldn’t wake.

He rubbed his hands over the charm Yennefer had left him yet again, feeling its pulsing heat and praying she would arrive shortly. Every minute the bard didn’t wake felt like eons. 

He dropped the charm as purple and white light flashed through the room, brighter even than the angled sunlight, and the sorceress stepped through her portal.

“Geralt, I had hoped you would actually only use that for emergencies.” She said as she looked over the room, sizing it up and finding it severely lacking. 

“He won’t wake up.” the witcher motioned towards Jaskier’s body with his free hand, the other was smoothing over Jaskier’s forehead. 

“How long?” Yen asked, settling on the other side of the bed and inspecting his face.

“Found him almost an hour ago, maybe since last night.” 

“Piss off any husbands?” she moved on to his neck, his wrists, started undoing his doublet. “Drink anything he shouldn’t have?” 

Geralt removed his hand as she checked Jaskier’s pupils. “Not that I know.” He took the bard’s hand in his own, Yennefer followed the movement with her eyes before returning to her ministrations.

“What herbs do you have on hand?” she asked, knowing he would probably have nothing of use but hoping a purpose would calm his mind. 

“So, was no one going to tell me about this? I mean really, Rupert Chatwin was supposed to be the good one!” Jaskier was grappling with the situation, and the sporadic details his friends gave were only sort of helping.

Long story short, he thinks, after they opened the door at the end of the world the magic that rippled out woke Rupert Chatwin, who had been in Castle Blackspire the whole time. As if Julia leaving them to explore the other side of the universe and Q, of all people, being banned from Fillory forever wasn’t enough. Oh, and Jaskier being yeeted back to Cintra for a run in with the man who left him on top of a mountain because that was “where his heart lived”. 

Tell him something he didn’t already know. 

Anyway, Rupert was set on resurrecting his dead boyfriend and willing to risk destroying everything to make it happen. He had taken the throne at Whitespire while Eliot was spending his time on Earth with Q and Margo was busy fighting on the border to Loria. Using her badass dual axes, which she apparently quested for while they were sailing to the edge of the world.

This was seriously too much to take in.

“I do, naturally, have a contingency in place.” Ember was interrupted by a knock on the door. A door to his left that Jaskier was sure had not been there a second ago. Fucking gods.

“Oh dear, that’s just a mouse, anyway we could of course prevent the Dark King’s plans by simply getting rid of the place where he intends to open his portal to the afterlife.”

The knocking intensified. 

“Are you keeping a fucking hostage?” Margo snapped.

“Oh dear no, simply-” 

The knocking was really fucking persistent. And Fen was opening the door.

“Oh my gosh!” Jaskier often wondered if Q would ever get as bored of the fantastic events in their life as he had, apparently not today and the man looked astounded to see Umber. A god that he had seen multiple times before.

“Out with you, this is my dreamscape!” Ember screamed at his brother, like a petulant child.

“I am only here because you” Umber pointed at his brother, “have suggested blowing up our entire planet!”

“Woah!” yelled Josh, “I kinda assumed you meant like burn the sacred spot he planned to do the ritual in!”

The other six nodded in assent. 

“Is it truly the only option?” Alice asked, ever the pragmatist.

Umber looked down. “I would like to say it is not, and yet.”

“Here we are.” Jaskier muttered.

They had turned to Tissaia. Yennefer may be the most powerful witch of the age, but sometimes there was no substitute for experience. Unfortunately, her verdict was not helpful. Jaskier had been asleep for three days, like some children’s tale princess. Geralt had been awake the same amount of time and sweet Melitele was he fucking exhausted, but he couldnt take the chance of dozing off when Jaskier may need him.

Tissaia had informed them that Jaskier’s mind was held elsewhere, by a higher power. Geralt would like to punch whatever higher power was keeping his bard like this in the face. He wanted to kill whoever cast this spell, or anything really. A fucking drowner would do. As it was, he was talking to Jaskier as he slept since Tissaia had suggested, with a pointed look, that words from someone the bard loved may be able to help him find home. 

It took Yennefer three hours to convince him that he was their best bet. He hoped his love for Jaskier would be enough to reach the man. Since their reconciliation after the dragon hunt the bard had taken no one else to bed, and neither had Geralt. He and Yennefer had fizzled out and moved past bitterness to friendship. He only wanted the bard. He hoped that Jaskier felt the same. He hoped he would have the opportunity to find out if Jaskier felt the same.

He held Jaskier’s hand, and looked at his sleeping face.

“If you come back, I promise to let you ride Roach. Please, I’ll do anything.” He’d resorted to begging the man the day before. If only Vesemir could see him now. “Give anything. I’ll listen to a hundred songs and put up with a thousand scorned lovers. Just come back, you fucking idiot.”

Geralt couldn’t take his eyes off his bard. But he was so damn tired.

“I need you.”

“Alright, that’s settled!” Ember clapped his fat hands excitedly. “Now we can pop you home, you shouldn’t be missed!”

That was a relief, Jaskier had no idea how he’d explain this to his companion. 

“Does time not exist here?” Alice asked.

“Oh it does, but on Fillory time. So mere seconds on your planet.” He said 'your planet' with a lot of distaste for a whimsical god who’d dictated that children of Earth would sit on the thrones of his planet.

Wait. “Fuck!” six pairs of eyes, Jaskier’s fellow magicians', all landed on him. “Time moves a lot faster where I was. Like, I’ve known Geralt over 30 years, in their time.”

“Ew, isn’t he old?” Eliot made a face.

“What? No, but I have no idea how long -”

Jaskier woke up on a bed, facing a window that pale moonlight poured through like a delicate cloth. There was a comfortable weight on his stomach. He reached his hand towards it and met a fistful of hair. It smelled of the inn, stale beer. The hair was white. 

Geralt was sleeping on him. Was he still dreaming? Jaskier started running his hand through the man’s locks as he stirred. He noticed his other hand was clutched in Geralt’s.

“Hmmmm?” Geralt muttered, gripping Jaskier tighter.

“Any particular reason you moved off the bed? Or why you are using me as a pillow, for that matter?”

Geralt chucked. Then froze. Then shot straight up in his seat like he’d been hit with a thousand volts of electricity.

“What’s gotten into you?” Jaskier laughed. 

Geralt clutched his face, then stroked his cheek. Breathing heavily, his eyes almost looked...wet with tears? Jaskier must be imagining things.

“Geralt?”

“You came back.”

“What do you mean.”

Geralt’s hands wondered over his face, shoulders, arms, and back to his chin and cheeks.

“Three days. I didn’t...You wouldn’t wake. But you came back...to me.”

The last two words were spoken so softly Jaskier was surprised he heard them without being a witcher. Or a wolf.

“I’ll always come back to you.” Jaskier moved his own hands to Geralt’s neck, pausing there to ensure he wasn’t reading this wrong.

Geralt surged forward and captured the bard’s mouth with his own. 

“Never. Leave. Me. Again.” the witcher emphasized each word with a kiss before drawing back and looking Jaskier in the eyes with something like fear.

“Never.” Jaskier pulled at Geralt’s shirt, wondering when his hands had become fisted in the black fabric, coaxing the man into the bed with him. 

“Not like that.” the bard said, kissing Geralt. He wondered how long he had before he had to join his friends in saving the world again, now that the witcher had finally made a move on him.

Then Geralt caged Jaskier under him and held his jaw as he began to make his way down the man’s neck and to his chemise and Jaskier forgot about other worlds and previous lives.


End file.
